[65] Rainsford, p. 303.
[66] Sixteen of Toussaint’s generals were chained by the neck to the rocks of a desert island, and left there to die. Men were chained to the stones of the court-yard—blood-hounds tore their limbs asunder, and devoured their quivering flesh. The crowd looked on from the galleries with admiring horror.—Beard, pp. 257, 258. Qu. Rev., No. 42.
[67] Rainsford, pp. 339, 428.
XX.
On the 13th of August, a close carriage rolls rapidly away from Brest—rapidly through France, guarded only by a few dragoons. Few knew whom it contained, few remarked upon it; for such things were common enough in Napoleon’s day, as they were before and have been since. The Castle of Joux, in the high rocks which border Switzerland, receives the prisoner. Alone with his servant, he passes the weary days in inaction,—with crushed hopes, with lacerated affections. He sees his wife, his children, no more—no more the sunny hights of St. Domingo—no more the luxuriant valleys of Ennery. He knows he is doomed; yet his soul is too strong for despair. His letters to Napoleon are manly and simple; they meet with no reply but a visit from Caffarelli, to discover where he had buried his gold![68] Ten long months drag themselves away—the cold winds of the mountains pierce the sensitive body of the prisoner—the trickling water on the walls of his dungeon is turned to ice[69]—the single servant is taken away.[70] For three days the governor of the castle is absent, and none see the prisoner. When he returns, cold, hunger, and disappointment have done their work. The kind angel, Death, has carried the soul through the prison bars.
The Hero of the Blacks is no more. Toussaint is dead![71]
The first of the whites stands alone! A few short years, and Waterloo came, and then the unscrupulous victor of a hundred fights fretted out his diseased life, and cursed his angry gods, on the lonely rock of St. Helena.
The first of the blacks died at Joux; the first of the whites at St. Helena. Judge between them.
The following is Wordsworth’s sonnet, written during the disappearance of Louverture.
“Toussaint, the most unhappy man of men!